fine meadow-land. The surface of the lake presents a smooth and slug gish expanse of water, unchecked by a single island, extending itself, generally unruffled, nearly as far as the eye can reach. In a high wind, however, it is reputed of very dangerous navigation, and on such occasions the voyagers warn you le lac est petit, mais il est malin. About half way up the lake, its eastern bank rises to a height of near four hundred and fifty feet, of which the first one hundred and fifty are formed by a perpendicular bluff, and the lower three hundred constitute a very abrupt and precipitous slope, which extends from the base of the bluff to the edge of the water. The wildness of the scenery, and its contrast with the shores of the river below, render it one of the most interesting spots on this vast flood of water. There is here also, what we seldom meet with on the lengthened Mississippi, a high projecting point, a precipitous crag resting upon a steep bank whose savage features singularly contrast with the peaceful lake, whose waters lave its base. But the associations connected with this spot, invest it with a superior interest, while, at the same time, they throw a gloom over the bright features of the scene. It is remembered as the theatre of one of the most melancholy incidents that often occur in the history of the Indians. We give the tale in the simple language of a guide, who accompanied Major Long in his northern expedition:

"There was, in the village of Keoxa, in the tribe of Wapasha, during the time that his father lived and ruled over them, a young Indian female, whose name was Winona, which signifies "the first born." She had conceived an attachment for a young hunter, who reciprocated it; they had frequently met, and agreed to a union in which all their hopes centred; but on applying to her family, the hunter was surprised to find himself denied, all his claims superseded by those of a warrior of distinction, who had sued for her. The warrior was a general favorite with the nation; he had acquired a name by the services which he had rendered to his village when attacked by the Chippewas; yet, notwithstanding all the ardor with which he pressed his suit, and the countenance which he received from her parents and brothers, Winona persisted in preferring the hunter. To the usual commendations of her friends in favor of the warrior, she replied, that she had made choice of a man, who being a professed hunter, would spend his life with her, and secure to her comfort and subsistence, while the warrior would be constantly absent, intent upon martial exploits. Winona's expostulations were, however, of no avail, and her parents having succeeded in driving away her lover, began to use harsh measures in order to compel her to unite with he man of their choice. To all her entreaties, that she should not be forced into a union so repugnant to her feelings, but rather be allowed to live a single life, they turned a deaf ear. Winona had at all times enjoyed a greater share in the affections of her family, and she had been indulged more, than is usual with females among Indians. Being a favorite with her brothers, they expressed a wish that her consent to this union should be obtained by persuasive means, rather than that she should be compelled to it against her inclination. With a view to remove some of her objections, they took means to provide for her futurs

maintenance, and presented to the warrior all that in their simple mode of living an Indian might covet. About that time a party was formed to ascend from the village to Lake Pepin, in order to lay in a store of the blue clay which is found upon its banks, and which is used by the Indians as a pigment. Winona and her friends were of the company. It was on the very day that they visited the lake that her brothers offered their presents to the warrior. Encouraged by these, he again addressed her, but with the same ill success. Vexed at what they deemed an unjustifiable obstinancy on her part, her parents remonstrated in strong language, and even used threats to compel her into obedience. 'Well,' said Winona, 'you will drive me to despair; I said I loved him not, I could not live with him; I wished to remain a maiden; but you would not. You say you love me; that you are my father, my brothers, my relations, yet you have driven from me the only man with whom I wished to be united; you have compelled him to withdraw from the village; aloue, he now ranges through the forest, with no one to assist him, none to spread his blanket, none to build his lodge, none to wait on him; yet was he the man of my choice. Is this your love? But even it appears that this is not enough; you would have me do more; you would have me rejoice in his absence; you wish me to unite with another man, with one whom I do not love, with whom I never can be happy. Since this is your love, let it be so; but soon you will have neither daughter, nor sister, nor relation, to torment with your false professions of affection. As she uttered these words, she withdrew, and her parents, heedless of her complaints, decreed that that very day Winona should be united to the warrior. While all were engaged in busy preparations for the festival, she wound her way to the top of the hill; when she reached the summit, she called out with a loud voice to her friends below; she upbraided them for their cruelty to herself and her lover. 'You,' said she, were not satisfied with opposing my union with the man whom I had chosen, you endeavored by deceitful words to make me faithless to him, but when you found me resolved upon remaining single, you dared to threaten me; you knew me not if you thought that I could be terrified into obedience; you shall soon see how well I can defeat your designs.' She then commenced to sing her dirge; the light wind which blew at the time, wafted the words towards the spot where her friends were; they immediately rushed, some towards the summit of the hill to stop her, others to the foot of the precipice to receive her in their arms, while all, with tears in their eyes, entreated her to desist from her fatal purpose; her father promised that no compulsive measures should be resorted to. But she was resolved, and as she concluded the words of her song, she threw herself from the precipice, and fell, a lifeless corpse, near her distressed friends. Thus has this spot acquired a melancholy celebrity; it is still called the Maiden's Rock, and no Indian passes near it, without involuntarily casting his eye towards the giddy height, to contemplate the place whence this unfortunate girl fell a victim to the cruelty of her relentless parents."

This tragedy was enacted many years ago. But we are told, that "there were in the circumstances of this case, several conditions which

tended to impart to it a peculiar interest; the maid was one who had been a favorite in her tribe; the warrior whom her parents had selected was one of note; her untimely end was a public one; many were the, witnesses to it; it was impressive in the highest degree; the romantic situation of the spot, which may be thought to have had some influence over the mind of a young and enthusiastic female, must have had a corresponding effect upon those who witnessed it." It did produce an indelible impression upon its witnesses; and the Indian now who has even received the tale from others, relates it with deep and unaffected feeling. It is one of those cases which show how completely the savage is swayed by passion, and presents, at the same time, a test of its sincerity and constancy.

The town of St. Peters is the most northerly on the banks of the "Great Father of Waters," and is, perhaps, as handsomely situated as any other. It stands upon the military reservation attached to Fort Snelling, on the west side of the river, and just above the mouth of the stream from which it takes its name. The Fort is large and built of stone, of which material the surrounding houses are constructed. The combined appearance of these objects, added to the fields and gardens around, with the smooth prairie in the rear, and noble steamboats lying upon the river in front, altogether produce an effect of the most pleasing kind, and half induce the admiring visitor to doubt the evidence of his senses and question the possibility of the scene he beholds, being situated at a remote post, two thousand miles in the interior, resembling, as it does so much, the characteristics of an old settled region "down east.' But so it is, and such the vast scale upon which our beloved country has been projected by the Creator of the universe! As fine crops of corn, oats, barley, etc., and vegetables of all kinds, are produced here as in any part of Pennsylvania or New England.

The Falls of St. Anthony are about seven miles above St. Peters, and in themselves afford ample compensation for the time required in accomplishing a visit to them. It is only surprising that a laudable desire of increasing their information respecting the various portions of this mighty Republic, has not already induced a greater number of our citizens to worship Nature at this her shrine, than which, perhaps, there is no other portion of our continent more emphatically deserving of the appellation. Certainly she can nowhere be more appropriately worshiped, or surrounded with more striking attributes of native wildness and primeval beauty. How many thousands upon thousands annually flock to participate in the monotonous and frivolous amusements of our fashionable watering places, whose knowledge of the country is so far from perfect that the name even of the Falls of St. Anthony is comparatively unknown to them; and yet the facilities afforded for visiting them, by means of splendid steamboats, are not surpassed by those of any fashionable resort in the older portions of the Union. Those who visit these Falls at present generally stay no longer than the boat in which they are conveyed, although accommodations may be procured at St. Peters, by those who feel disposed to cultivate the opportunity for enjoying the

examination of the surrounding interesting scenery. A traveler visiting the place says:

"It will afford a delightful resort in the summer from the cares of the world for the man of business, and the invalid will be invigorated by healthful breezes and a delicious climate. Many who have heard of the Falls of St. Anthony are not aware of the splendid scenery with which the country abounds. Smooth glittering sheets of water, verdant meadows, and high bleak bluffs, give elegance and grandeur to the landscape. The wide extended prairies, well stocked with grouse and blooming with many kinds of flowers. the lake abounding with fish, and their shores covered with beautiful specimens of carnelian and incrustations of shells, offer great attractions to the sportsman and the man of taste. The sav

age can be here seen in his wild state, and an Indian dance will be no rare occurrence. In truth I do not believe a few weeks or months could be spent more pleasantly anywhere, if proper accommodations could be had, than at the Falls of St. Anthony."

The great volume of water continually pouring over the barrier to its progress, and sending up, as it were, to God, the anthem of this his handiwork, contrasted, as the voice of the cataract naturally is, with the quiet of the surrounding scenery, and the beautiful repose of the far stretching prairie-all combine to subdue the feelings, and render them subjective to the sway of devotional thought. An intelligent writer for the Pittsburg Visitor, who narrates in the style of a cultivated poet, while he sees with the eye of a painter, published several years since in the journal alluded to, a sketch of a visit paid by him to St. Anthony's. It must be regretted that he does not more particularly describe the great wonder itself as well as the country adjoining. His description, so far as it goes, is very accurate, and we give it in his own words:

"Standing on the western bank of the Mississippi, you behold the stream dividing and encircling an island immediately above-then reuniting, and for two hundred yards by its agitation it appears to regret the formidable feat it is destined to accomplish.

"The river, which here is about seven hundred yards wide, tumbles its vast sheet of water over a ledge extending across the stream; in the centre a projecting point of the rock, somewhat resembling a horse-shoe, divides the fall. On the western side the waters dash themselves upon huge masses of detached rocks, which are distributed in the bed in a state of chaotic confusion, and while they diminish the grandeur of the scene, cast from their broad and jagged surface volumes of foam and spray, glistening with bright refulgence in the rays of the glorious sun. "The eastern portion of the fall, quickly and calmly slides over its rocky bed, falling perpendicularly a distance of fourteen feet into the pool below, and after the ruffled and uneven temper of the water subsides again, mingles itself in the flowing stream. Altogether, the falls do not realize expectation. The shores on both sides are covered with luxuriant vegetation, and the rocky and romantic bluffs below serve to attract our wonder and admiration.

"The adjoining shores indicate that the falls have been much lower down the stream than at present, presenting every appearance of having

continued their ponderous masses of rock entirely across to the opposite bank."

The same writer made a visit to Brown's Falls, which he thinks beautiful and well worthy the inspection of the lovers of nature. He says:

"At the suggestion of the driver, we quitted the carriage to behold this seemingly insignificant stream precipitate its waters over a bed of rock, a distance of something more than forty feet, upon the rough and jagged masses of stone forming a time-worn basin for the noisy cascade. Leaving its banks, we explored the neighborhood, and found that our Jehu certainly evinced taste in recommending the spot, for in all my wanderings I have seen nothing more delightfully attractive than the scenery and associations embraced within the scope of a single glance. High above our heads the noisy volume of water leaped on to the verge of the cataract, and then, pausing but a brief while, sent its sparkling shower tremblingly, yet evenly over the barrier, whence it came madly down upon the fractured rocks at our feet. The spray caused by the strong and powerful concussion imparted a cooling influence to the shaded dell, while to the eye it appeared an iris lighting up the almost gloomy shade.

"It was a spot for dreams of Arcadia, and it required no stretch of imagination to believe that here some Dian of the surrounding wilds may have oft retired to escape the arid breath of the sun-scorched prairies, or perchance the buskined son of the soil led the maiden of his tribe to pour into her ear the story of his love. Fit spot for love or solitude! one might well forget that beyond there was a world of barrier-of six per cents, and notes of hand."

It certainly appears strange that the Mississippi, after absorbing tha Ohio, presents no visible augmentation of its volume. Below the point of junction, the river is not broader than the Ohio alone. Though flowing in the same channel, the streams are not mingled. For many miles there is a distinct line of demarkation between the waters of the two rivers. Those of the Ohio are clear, while the stream of the Mississippi is ever dark and turbid. When the Mississippi is in flood, it almost up dams the Ohio, and suffers it to occupy but a small portion of the common channel.

It

After quitting La Belle Riviere, as the French first designated the Ohio, one feels as if he has made an exchange for the worse. The scenery of the Mississippi is even less varied than that of the Ohio. is almost uniformly flat, though in the course of twelve hundred miles, a few bluffs and eminences do certainly occur. The wood grows down to the very margin of the river; and the timber, for some hundred miles, is by no means remarkable for size. As the river descends to the southward, however, it is of finer growth; and about latitude 30°, vegetation becomes marked by a degree of rankness and luxuriance which I have never seen anywhere else.

The American forests are generally remarkable for the entire absence of underwood, so that they are easily penetrable by a foot-traveler, and generally, even by a mounted one. But, in the neighborhood of the Mississippi, there is, almost uniformly, a thick undegrowth of cane, varying